4
As we approach Ellie and Patrick, I start to psych myself out. What will I say? This isn’t how it happened last time. Last time, we bumped into each other. Last time, I was alone, Madison already off with Jake. Last time, Ellie spoke to me first.
Am I about to ruin everything?
Only a few more feet. Too late to turn back now.
I adopt my flirtiest expression, one that took years to perfect. Just as we’re about to step up to them, Madison yanks me away. Maybeshepsychedherselfout? She must have been bluffing about not finding Patrick cute.
Okay. This is fine. The situation can be remedied.
I allow her to pull me out to the backyard of the frat house. Despite my confusion, I’m grateful for the change; the stuffy heat is replaced by a cool Los Angeles breeze, the smell of sweat and weed exchanged for fresh air—and, okay, still weed and also cigarette smoke.
I’ll take what I can get.
“What’s up? We were so close,” I say.
“We can’t justgo upand talk to them,” she replies as if it’s obvious.
My bafflement morphs into amusement. Teenagers. “We definitelycanjust go up and talk to guys, actually.”
“No, I read about this in a magazine once. I’ve been perfecting it in my mind ever since. You act like you’regoingto walk up to some guys,then you take a quick turn and walk past them. It catches their attention. Intrigues them. It’s called the approach-and-swerve.”
She’s so earnest, her eyes wide, like she’s imparting great wisdom.
“No offense to magazines, but that might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Walking up and talking to them is more effective.”
“No, that never works.”
“Works more often than you think.”
“How would you know?” She raises an eyebrow.
Good point. Iwouldn’tknow. I’ve never just walked up to a man, started a conversation, and taken him home an hour later—not yet.
“My sister mentioned it,” I say with a shrug.
“I thought you don’t speak to your sister. Do you have two?”
“I already stopped talking to Sierra?” I frown. Am I misremembering my life right now? That’s not supposed to happen for years.
“That’s what you said. Something about graduation?”
“Right.” I laugh half-heartedly. “I forgot about that.”
My older sister, Sierra, and I have always had a contentious relationship. Growing up, we were constantly in some sort of tiff. I’d say it was her fault; she’d say it was mine. I’m old enough now to realize it was almost always a little bit of both. Our personalities just… clash. Nothing to be done about it.
Now that Madison mentions it, I remember. At dinner to celebrate my high-school graduation, Sierra and I got into a fight after she managed to turn the evening around and make it all about her—specifically, her fears about med school, which made my parents shift all their attention to her, reassuring her by listing all her accomplishments. It had felt so deliberate, like she hated that the focus was on me. And I know that makes me sound like a spoiled brat, but, well, you really had to be there.
“You saidtwo days agothat you’ll never speak to her again. How could you forget?”
Easy. Because Idospeak to her again. Not even that long from now. We made up so fast that I barely remember this gap in communication.
The real breakdown of our relationship won’t come for years.
I blanch as I realize I might have to forgive her or I’ll look like the petty one.
“Yeah, but—you know.Sisters.” I wave her off, then switch the subject. “What’s the game plan with Ellie and Patrick?”
